


Skin Deep

by Night_Lotus



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-17 17:42:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Night_Lotus/pseuds/Night_Lotus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Casey makes Ellie his mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Skin Deep, Chapter 1

 

**Disclaimer:** I neither own Chuck nor its marvelous characters, but because of the creative genius of Chris Fedak and Joshua Schwartz, I have the opportunity to play in their sandbox.

Casey rolled his shoulders, grunting as he stretched his stiff, sore muscles, the result of another boring and useless day at the Buy More playing a heavy-appliance jockey.  His shoulders weren’t the only things that ached.  His trigger finger was starting to cramp up; it was getting twitchy, practically begging for a mission.  Things had been dry on the spy front for several weeks, and he was hot for some action.

His head was starting to pound from listening to Chuck yammer on as they walked across the Echo Park courtyard. “Well, what did you expect to happen when you left those two imbeciles in charge of the Nerd Herd desk, Bartows—“ Casey cut off the verbal dress down and pulled up short, both fascinated and perplexed by what he saw happening in front of Chuck’s apartment.

Bartowski’s sister was standing with her back to the closed apartment door, facing the two men, unaware of their presence, as she intently looked down the front of her navy blue scrub top.

So many thoughts and more than just a few wildly inappropriate images were whirling around in the blender of Casey’s brain by the time Chuck finally got a bead on the situation.

His mouth opening and closing in a non-verbal stutter, Chuck stopped abruptly next to Casey, both hands clinging for life to the strap of his regulation green and yellow Buy More messenger bag.

With his trademark awkward, but determined smile, he let go of the strap with one hand, waving it tentatively in Ellie’s direction, trying to get her attention. “Hey, El, off to the hospital?” 

The moron was stating the obvious, but it was far better than anything Casey could have come up with, given the situation.  At best, he probably would have received a resounding slap if he voiced the slide show taking place in his head right now. Exercising extreme restraint, he clamped his mouth shut, grinding his molars together to prevent himself from offering to help Ellie find what she was looking for.

 

The smile on the kid’s face crumpled, turning into an expression of horrified concern as Ellie continued her intense study, seemingly oblivious to the two flummoxed men standing a few feet away.

Like any battle-tested soldier, Casey knew when it was time to beat a hasty retreat.  “Tomorrow morning, eight o’clock, Bartowski,” he called over his shoulder, having made it almost to his own apartment door before Chuck turned to look in his direction, the uncomfortable smile still on his face. 

“See you tomorrow, Casey,” he said with forced cheer, before sucking in his breath and turning his attention back to his sister, silently praying that Casey wouldn’t bring this up tomorrow morning before their briefing with Beckman. 

Their brief verbal exchange seemed to shake Ellie out of her oblivion, and she looked up to see Chuck walking her way.  As she turned on a sunny smile for her brother, she hoped neither he nor Casey had witnessed her visual misgivings on what she had chosen to wear beneath her scrub top. 

She had purchased the black, lacy, mostly-see-through Agent Provocateur bra and matching thong on impulse, daring herself to wear them under her work clothes today.  It was all part of her plan to reinvent herself, never wanting to hear the phrase “That’s boring, babe,” uttered in reference to her from any man’s mouth, ever again.

“Hi, Chuck, I’d love to stay and catch up, but I’m already running late for my shift.”  She released her brother from a brief hug and relayed that there was a lasagna and garlic knots in the fridge, before adding “See you in the morning,” as she race walked toward the parking lot.

“Uh, bye, El, have a good shift.”

Eyebrows nearly meeting his hairline, Chuck watched his sister speed away toward her car, turning back to the apartment door after losing sight of her. As he turned the key in the lock and opened the door, he gave himself a sound mental shake. _Alrighty then_.

_The following morning, Castle…_

“So, what’s up with your sister, Bartowski?”

And, here it came, the moment he’d been dreading. Thank God Sarah wasn’t there, for what little saving grace that was worth.

Chuck swallowed before answering, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat. “I’m not sure what you mean, Casey, Ellie’s fine,” he claimed, in a lame attempt to redirect the conversation.

But, all it took was Casey’s ‘don’t bullshit me’ look, punctuated by a raised eyebrow, coupled with muscled arms crossed over his chest, to break Chuck.

“Look, Ellie’s been trying to deal with her break up with Devon, and it’s causing her to act a little differently, is all.”

“Hmmph,” Casey grunted in response.

Yeah, things with the Intersect’s sister were definitely different. Sure, she shared some of the same trademark Bartowski flamboyance that her brother continued to torture Casey with on a daily basis.  But, it was more than that, and Casey decided to make it his mission to pinpoint the source of the doctor’s recently erratic behavior. He had, after all, been itching for a mission.

_Coming up:_ “Dinner was exquisite,” he said, keeping his voice low, as his eyes traveled slowly down her face, latching onto her lips, which parted as if he had coaxed them open with his own.


	2. Skin Deep Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casey continues his investigation.

_Sunday Evening, Echo Park_

Ellie circumnavigated the low-slung, rectangular table, which occupied the space usually reserved for the coffee table, painstakingly assessing her handiwork.  Jewel-toned Moroccan-style throw pillows were carefully placed on the floor, complimenting the midnight blue table cloth, and warm candlelight winked off of the freshly polished sliver teapot.  She sank her teeth into her lower lip and bent over the table, adjusting the matching silver-bottomed tea glasses.  The sound of the doorbell interrupted her fidgeting with the cloth covering a basket of warm flatbread.

“Coming,” she called out as she glanced at the timer counting down on the stove on her way to answer the door.

The cool feel of the entryway tile against her bare feet reminded her that she needed to slip her shoes back on. The flats poked out from under the breakfast bar, where she had kicked them off earlier.

A smile of genuine delight lit up her face when she opened the door and saw who was standing on the other side. 

“John, come in,” she welcomed, stepping aside to let him enter.

“Thanks,” he said, returning her smile, offering her a slender, dark glass bottle. 

Taking it from him, thinking it was wine, she was pleasantly surprised when she rotated the bottle and the label came into view. “Wow!” she breathed with reverence, reading it aloud. “The Olive Press, Cold Pressed Extra Virgin Tuscan Olive Oil”

“This is stuff is liquid gold; John, you shouldn’t have,” she said, looking up and meeting his steady blue gaze. 

He shrugged.  “I thought it was more interesting than a bottle of wine. I’m glad you like it.”

Still gripping the bottle by its neck, she stood up on her toes, reached up and put her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. 

While unexpected, he liked the soft press of her body against his and settled his hands in the dip of her lower back, returning her embrace. The fabric of her silver sheath dress felt silky against his hands, and she smelled like warm vanilla sugar as her lips whispered across his cheek.  A definite added perk of arriving early and having the forethought to come bearing something other than the standard, boring bottle of wine.

“Thank you,” she said softly. As she lowered herself down, she was startled by the realization that she wasn’t quite so ready to be out of his arms.

Cool air settled on her bare arms, giving her a chill in the absence of his warmth.  She had felt safe and something else as he held her briefly against him, something she couldn’t quite name and wasn’t sure she was ready to.

He smoothly surveyed the room, eyeing the dining set up, not missing a beat. The layout and the heavenly smells coming from the kitchen reminded him of the time he infiltrated the Moroccan royal palace. That had been one hell of a mission, and he had the scarred-over sword wounds to prove it.

 “Everything smells wonderful. How can I help?”

The kitchen timer buzzed, rescuing her straying mind. Grateful for the respite from trying to analyze what just happened, she turned and walked into the kitchen, setting the bottle of olive oil on the talavera-tiled counter.  She bent and opened the oven door, withdrawing several clay vessels with circular bottoms and conical-shaped lids, which she placed on the stovetop.

Reaching into a drawer, she pulled out several large, decorative ceramic tiles, handing them to Casey. “Would you mind putting those on the table? I’ll be right behind you with these,” she said, gesturing to the tagines resting on the stove.

“Sure.”

He walked over to the table with the makeshift trivets, flipping one over before setting it down.  “Clever,” he murmured, seeing the thin layer of dark felt lining the underside.

Ellie carried over the still-hot tagines one by one, setting them down on the tiles Casey had placed strategically around the table.

“Anything else?” he asked, heading toward the kitchen. “Don’t let me off that easy, Doc,” he winked at her over his shoulder, giving her a smile that ignited a hot, slow-burning flame deep inside her.

Okay, maybe something was going on.  No, no maybe about it. What else could explain the roller coaster ride her stomach was currently taking and how she suddenly noticed how deeply blue his eyes were.  Sure, she had always known that he was good looking, but this was different. Knowing someone was attractive was a completely different hand of cards than what she had just been dealt.  The almost physically palpable, urgent tug, drawing her straight toward him, was an entirely different and dangerously compelling hand. A hand she would have to play later. Right now, it was dinner time. 

She joined him in the kitchen, reaching into the cabinet for a large serving bowl. “Can you grab the bowl of hummus from the top shelf of the fridge, while I finish the rice?”

“Sure, want it on the table with the rest?”

“Please,” she answered, gently folding spices into the steaming bowl of grain.

He returned just as she finished, reaching for the bowl, his hand brushing hers as she handed it to him. There was that tug again. 

The doorbell chimed.  This time it was Morgan, bless his timing. 

“Hey, Ellie, big guy; it smells amazing in here! I like what you’ve done with the place,” he complimented, walking toward the dining area. 

“Thanks, Morgan. Please, have a seat; you too, John.  We can get started with some tea while we wait for Chuck and Sarah.”

Morgan plunked himself down on one of the pillows, while Casey took a bit more time lowering his six foot four frame to the ground.  Ellie settled gracefully next to Casey, picking up the teapot and his glass, pouring him some of the fragrant, hot mint tea, then taking Morgan’s easily proffered glass and filling it up as well as her own. 

“Cheers,” Morgan said, clanking his glass against Casey’s, earning a grunted “moron” in response.

“Sorry we’re late, guys,” Chuck said when he and Sarah arrived a few minutes later. “El, it looks and smells wonderful.”

Ellie rose, greeting her brother and hugging Sarah. 

“Ellie, you look lovely, what a beautiful dress,” Sarah said.

Ellie smiled at her warmly.  “Thank you, Sarah; I’m so glad you’re here. Please, sit,” she said gesturing to the plump pillows resting on the floor.

After the newcomers were seated, Ellie poured more tea, and they proceeded to feast upon Moroccan flatbread dipped in hummus, roasted red pepper and eggplant ragout, and succulent beef, lamb, and chicken tagines studded with preserved lemons, roasted vegetables, olives, apricots, dates, and figs, served over perfumed rice.

“Hmmm, wonder what this is?” Morgan said, gazing at the chunk of fig perched on the tip of his fork.

“It’s the same thing that fills those little cookies you love so much, buddy,” Chuck offered.

“Ellie, you know how to make newton filling?” Morgan asked, his eyes rounded in awe.

Ellie laughed, her eyes crinkling around the edges as she watched him pop the piece of dried fruit into his mouth. “I guess you can say that.”

Laughter was plentiful around the table as they joked and swapped stories between bites of food and sips of tea.

Casey had allowed himself to relax enough that he reacted good naturedly to Chuck and Morgan’s ribbing about him selling not one, but two Beast Masters that day. “Those single white females love ya, Casey,” Chuck grinned, giving him a playful punch in the arm.

Sarah’s eyebrows rose to her hairline in surprise when rather than reacting with grunts or threats, her partner actually blushed. She was pretty sure it had more to do with the pretty, smiling brunette sitting next to him than a sudden case of magnanimity.

 “I just may be in the market for a grill,” Ellie teased, with a wink.

She smiled contentedly as she watched her friends and family relax against their pillows, following the meal. She looked around the table, capturing snatches of everyday life; Sarah throwing her head back as she laughed at something Chuck said, Morgan patting his full belly, Chuck refilling Sarah’s tea cup, and Casey’s steady blue gaze meeting hers. He may be quiet, but the man didn’t miss a trick. He may present a polite, placid façade, but she wanted to uncover what was hidden beneath, and decided, in that instant, to make that her mission. Bartowskis were nothing if not tenacious.

A corner of Casey’s mouth curved up as he held her eyes with his. It wouldn’t hurt to flirt, just a little bit. She certainly seemed receptive, if the size of her pupils were any indication.

“Dinner was exquisite,” he said, keeping his voice low, as his eyes traveled slowly down her face, latching onto her lips, which parted as if he had coaxed them open with his own.

And, as spontaneously as it had started, the moment was lost.

“Morgan!!” Sarah hissed out of the corner of her mouth.

“What? Belching after a good meal is considered a compliment to the chef,” he explained, without a shred of remorse, engaging in a languid stretch before falling back against the pillow, giving his tummy another pat. 

“That’s definitely true in some countries, buddy,” Chuck said.

Ellie laughed, looking Morgan’s way. She hadn’t felt this relaxed and at ease for a long time. “That’s okay, I’m glad you enjoyed it, Morgan.”

“Enjoyed it?! I loved it! That was a feast fit for a king, created by none other than our own beautiful and talented Eleanor Faye Bartowski.”

Ellie blushed, a smile dimpling her cheeks as she got up from the table and reached for the now empty teapot. “I’ll be back with tea and dessert in a few minutes,” she said as she excused herself from the table and wound her way back to the kitchen.

“Can I help with anything, Ellie?” Sarah offered, starting to lever herself up from the floor. 

“No, Sarah, but thanks.  I’ve got it. Relax and enjoy yourself.”

“You heard the woman, relax and enjoy yourself,” Chuck said as he pulled his girlfriend into his lap. 

Sarah laughed as she tumbled into Chuck’s lap, blonde hair flying, which he reached over and tucked behind her ears, giving her the crinkled-nose smile that she adored.

Ellie signed wistfully as she cleaned the reconstituted leaves out of the tea infuser and loaded it with dried ones while watching the affectionate exchange between Chuck and Sarah. In her opinion, Sarah was the best thing that ever happened to Chuck. He had been searching for happiness since his painful break-up with Jill years ago, and she was so glad for him that his heart had healed enough to allow someone back in. 

She poured not-quite-boiling water into the teapot and lowered the infuser, replacing the little metal lid. As the soothing scent of cool mint enveloped her, a deep male voice, behind her and close to her ear, filled her with sudden and unexpected warmth. 

“Need help?” Casey asked, moving into her field of vision, gesturing to the covered cake stand and stack of desert plates and forks resting next to the teapot, having already set down the dishes, silverware, and a couple of the tagines next to the sink.

The man was ninja quiet, which surprised her, given his size, but she had the inkling that he had his fair share of secrets tucked away for safekeeping.

“Thank you, John.”

He simply nodded, picked up the cake and plates topped with forks, and made his way back to the table with everything, as she followed behind with the tea. 

Thankfully he didn’t have eyes in the back of his head, or at least she hoped he didn’t. She would die of embarrassment if he caught her very blatantly checking him out. Her eyes traveled slowly down his broad back, lingering where his muscular torso narrowed at the hips, and parked on his very fine ass. The dark denim definitely did the man justice.  She was just looking. There wasn’t anything wrong with looking, right?

When he reached the table and bent over to set everything down in the center, he paused, lingering for an extra second or two. One didn’t survive very long as a spy without being aware when someone had eyes on you.  Seemed the lady was enjoying the view while simultaneously stroking his ego. He couldn’t resist a brief smirk before restoring his poker face as he rose, turned, and took the teapot from her, pretending not to notice the color heating her cheeks.

She let the breath she’d been holding out slowly, as he took the teapot, her smile wobbling. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

_Yeah, I bet you know a whole lot about pleasure._ Those blue eyes of his were definitely going to be the end of her, along with the rest of him.

She was met by “ooohs” and “ahhhs” as she lifted the glass dome covering the cake. She blushed again; seemed she’d been doing a lot of that lately. The cake had taken her longer to prepare and assemble than the rest of the meal, and she was pretty proud of how it had turned out. The two-layer cake sparked with the diamond shimmer sugar scattered over the snow-white icing. Pistachio kernels and delicate, pale pink candied rose petals graced the top, complimenting the rose-scented whipped cream filling.

“It looks too pretty to eat,” remarked Sarah as Ellie cut and plated generous slices for everyone.

“Well, I hope it tastes as good,”

“Oh, it does,” confirmed Morgan, his mouth already stuffed with several bites. “Great cake, Ellie,” he said, his voice muffled.

“Glad you’re enjoying it,” she said, laughing again at Morgan’s familiar antics.

Casey barely restrained himself from telling the cretin to cover his mouth, forcing himself to remain civil for Ellie’s sake. Although he was still sussing out the details, his gut told him that tonight’s Sunday dinner held special meaning for Ellie.

Dessert progressed more quickly than the main meal, and soon everyone was helping to clear the table, depositing dishes and serving pieces on the kitchen counter.

Ellie wrapped up an extra piece of cake for Morgan, who promised not to share it with Jeff and Lester when he met them at the Buy More for their weekly poker game. “Thanks again, Ellie, it was delicious,” the little bearded man said, patting his stomach as he stood next to the door, ready to head to the game.

“You’re welcome, Morgan.”

“Don’t lose your shirt, buddy,” Chuck called out, a semi-serious look of concern on this face. “I think we’re all out of Buy More shirts in your size.”

“Not to worry, Chuck, this baby’s staying put,” Morgan reassured his best friend, tugging on the green material covering his still slightly distended stomach.

Sarah headed toward the kitchen. “Ellie, let me help you clean some of this up.”

“No, Sarah, I’ve got it,” Ellie said, shooing the other woman out of the kitchen. “I know you and Chuck were planning on catching a late movie.”

Sarah protested. “That’s okay, we can stay and help, can’t we Chuck?”

“Of course we can,” Chuck agreed, walking into the kitchen and picking up one of the dirty dishes piled up next to the sink.

Ellie crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. Uh-oh. Casey recognized the trademark Bartowski stubbornness fueling up.

“Chuck, put the dish down and go and have a good time at the movies with Sarah.”

“But, El,” he protested, looking at the mountains of dishes. “There are so many and you’ve already worked so hard today.”

“Go ahead, Bartowski, take Walker to the movies. I’ll stay and help.”

“Thank you, John,” Ellie said, not even offering a token protest since it meant getting to spend more time with him.

“You heard the lady,” he said, making a skedaddle motion with his hand.

The couple found their jackets and made a hasty exit after both complimented Ellie again on dinner.

Casey laced his fingers together and cracked his knuckles. “Let’s get her done, Doc,” he said, walking to the sink.

“Persian Love Cake, huh?” he teased, reading the title on the recipe card resting on the countertop, near the sink.

She was adorable when she blushed. Hell, she was adorable when she didn’t.

“Well, I’m waiting,” he cajoled, picking up the card and tapping it against his palm.

Her cheeks still burning and not quite meeting his eyes, she explained. “At first, I was attracted by the look of it, but then I feel in love with the story behind it.”

His polite silence encouraged her to continue.

He wasn’t really being polite, but she didn’t need to know that. Instead of being polite, he was watching her mouth as she spoke, latching onto those full, crimson lips. He wanted to take a bite of the plump lower one and bet that she tasted even sweeter than the cake she was describing to him.

“Variations of this cake are still served at Iranian weddings. Legend has it that a Persian princess baked this cake for her secret lover, feeding it to him as they exchanged forbidden vows on the eve of her arranged marriage to another man.”

“Very romantic,” Casey commented, still focused on her mouth.

“Yes, it is.” A small sigh escaped her lips as she turned toward the sink and started filling the basin with hot, sudsy water.

Realization hit as they stood side-by-side working through the dishes. There was one very significant thing that was different about this evening’s dinner. There was one person conspicuously absent, someone who had been present for all Sunday dinners leading up to this one, at least as long as Casey had been an invited guest. Devon.

The puzzle pieces began clicking into place. It made perfect sense now why the style and menu of tonight’s dinner had deviated so radically from those in past and why she seemed nervous, at least at first. He’d always respected Ellie, especially given the more than decent job she’d done raising Chuck. It wasn’t her fault that the lanky Nerd Herder drove him to frequently break out his best scotch. Nah, that was all on Bartowski. His admiration for the beautiful brunette standing next to him ticked up several notches. He respected her determination to move on and get past her relationship with Devon and continue living her life and loving the people who were smart and lucky enough to remain in it. And, if you asked him, which she hadn’t, good riddance. Casey had never liked the superficial cardiac surgeon, always ruminating that she deserved better.

_What, are you volunteering to step up, solider?_ As much as he wouldn’t mind romancing the Intersect’s sister, there were countless reasons she was off limits and had to stay that way. It was a shame, but so sucked the life of a spy.

But, just for tonight, he could set the spy life aside, at least partially, and allow himself to just be John and enjoy the quiet, easy companionship as they did the dishes.

Too soon for either of them, the last dish was dried and put away, along with the various cooking vessels and utensils.

After drying her hands on the corner of a clean dish towel, she offered it to Casey. “Thanks for all of your help tonight. You were an absolute lifesaver!”

He shrugged a shoulder, taking the towel from her. “Let’s just say it wasn’t a hardship.”

“That’s sweet of you to say,” she said without looking at him, walking to the dining table, reaching for and rolling up the crumb-strewn cloth.

As she looked at the bare, polished wood, a stream of erotic and very wanton images involving her and the large man standing in her kitchen played in slow motion. _What’s gotten into me?_ Her hormones were clearly raging out of control. Otherwise, why would she be seriously pondering testing the sturdiness of the now-cleared dinner table, with him on top of her?

Proof of how lost she was in the fantasy was evidenced by how high she jumped when he touched her gently on the shoulder. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, sorry, John,” she apologized, with a guilty smile, looking up into his concerned blue eyes. She was mortified that she’d been caught, red handed, zoning out. At least he didn’t know the real reason she’d taken a trip to La La Land. “I was just thinking about how to get the curry stains out of the tablecloth.”

He let the lie pass, taking the tablecloth from her and setting it on the breakfast bar. “I’d better get going. It’s an early morning punch-in tomorrow at the old Buy More.”

“Of course,” she said, easing up on her toes, wrapping her arms around his neck, wanting to feel his big, firm body against hers again.

As she wrapped her arms around him, he bent down, letting his hands come to rest again in the hollow at small of her back, a place with which he was happy to renew his acquaintance.

He shouldn’t be having this much bodily contact with the Intersect’s sister. _Just John tonight_ , he reminded himself as he gathered her against him.

“Thank you for tonight, Ellie,” he whispered against her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“It was my pleasure,” she said, echoing his words from earlier as she lowered herself down, feeling a twinge of disappointment as the embrace was broken.

As if sensing her loss, he took her hands in his, slowly rubbing his thumbs across the backs of her hands.

Her breath hitched and her lips parted at the feel of his callous-roughened thumbs caressing her smooth skin.

Big, gray eyes looked into his, and he was less than a heartbeat away from roughly hauling her against him and setting the world record for quickest removal of a dress and female undergarments.

_Time to fall back and keep your sanity long enough to fight another day_. He gave her hands a firm squeeze, reluctantly releasing her. “Good night, Ellie. I’m looking forward to next Sunday,” he said, letting himself out.

_Oh God, I’m in serious trouble_ , she thought, her heart racing as she leaned against the door after it shut behind him.

_Coming up_ : Casey to Ellie:  “I’ve been down the reinvention path, and it doesn’t always end up working out quite like you planned.”


End file.
